THE MAN WHO STANDS ACROSS THE STREET
There’s a man who stands across the street from my house every single night at exactly 2:17 AM. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. He just stands there. Watching.
YOU GET WHAT YOU PAY FOR
Raymond Kessler’s father was, quite literally, a trust fund. Groomed into a vapid vessel devoid of empathy, Raymond pissed away his inheritance on the finest drugs, the loudest cars, and the trendiest clothes. He replenished his fortune by gutting pensions through the family business and selling conspiracy supplements to men who hated their wives. He believed aliens were real, we live in a simulation, and women were mostly decorative buckets for his sperm.
So when a shadow dealer in Morocco offered him a strange object—carved from jet-black meteorite, with spindled horns and a vaguely feminine shape—he wired $4.5 million instantly.
THE CROOKED ONE
(HE WHO HAUNTS THE TOWPATH - as told in German Flatts, New York – circa late 1850s)
In the late 1850s, the towpath connecting Ilion and Mohawk, New York, was a vital link along the Erie Canal, bustling with activity. Running parallel to the Mohawk River, it was not only a hub of commerce but also a place of whispered legends among the locals.
One such tale was that of The Crooked One.
THE DIRT WITCH
My best friend stole a cursed crystal. Now she’s gone, and someone—or something else has her face.
We were just two art students crafting costumes for Comic Con—until my best friend stole a strange red crystal to cosplay the Dirt Witch, a local legend known for vengeance and blood. Now she’s missing… and something wearing her face won’t stop staring at me.
THE JESTER
My family is dead and everyone thinks I killed them—but it was the Jester, I swear.
I didn’t hurt anyone. He did. He tricked me. It was all just a joke. A bad joke.
I’m getting out tomorrow. Ten years in juvie. They say I’ve made “progress.” That I’ve “accepted responsibility.”
But they’re wrong. I didn’t kill my family. I was the victim. Preyed upon by that toy—that evil thing.
The Jester.
PREACHERMAN
I visited my girlfriend’s hometown in the Mohawk Valley to film a doc on local legends. The forest near Columbia Center is supposedly haunted by something they call “Preacherman.” They say if you hear a sermon in the woods at night…don’t respond.
I didn’t listen. And now I can’t.
ELON PRIME
THE FEAST
I should have known something was off the moment I downloaded an app specializing in underground food pop-ups. It was just another weak attempt by me to fit in with the young millennials at work. But this was the perfect chance to get Vanessa to go on a date with me.
“Sublime Bites” had no address, no reviews—just an invitation-only system and the promise of a "once-in-a-lifetime underground dining experience." As a programmer whose whole world is based on logic, I should’ve been skeptical. But as a single, socially awkward man trying to impress his way-out-of-his-league date, I was admittedly desperate.
THE HOLE
I still dream about the fire. The way the flames clawed at the old barn, the smell of burning wood and something worse. The way my little brother screamed for me to save him.
ROOTS
My uncle Jonas was a recluse. I thought he was interesting, but nobody else in my family could stand him—especially my mom, his baby sister. She blamed Vietnam. It wrecked him, stole the big goofy brother she once loved, and replaced him with an imposter dredged from the putrid mud of a battlefield. When the war ended, Uncle Jonas moved in with my grandma and never left. After she died in the late ’90s, when I was just a kid, he and my mom fought bitterly. She wanted to sell the house, but he refused. Being the oldest, he had just as much claim to it as she did, and he dug his heels in.
HARVEST OF ASH
Jaycen’s parents always told him that progress came at a cost. He just never thought the cost would be their lives.
The fire in the main house cast long, twisting shadows across the greenhouse as the masked men dragged him forward. The air reeked of burning plastic, blood, and gasoline. His mother’s screams had stopped. His father’s body lay somewhere in the inferno, their life's work crumbling with them.
POWER CHORD APOCALYPSE
Power Chord Apocalypse
Troy’s off key voice bellowed through the room as Wolf’s fingers moved up and down, strumming and wishing his vocal chords could match that ego. Nothing he could do could drown out the weak voice of his lead singer. But he had no other options now and he just wanted to play with a band and hope they’d notice his talent.
THE HUDSON ABDUCTION
The river was calm, moonlight shimmering on its dark surface as Jake cast his line. Beside him, Ryan cracked open a beer. "Perfect night," he murmured.
Then, the sky split open.
An eerie orange light descended, wrapping around them. Their limbs went stiff. They could think—they could scream in their minds—but their bodies refused to move.
Final Transmission
Aten floated alone in the sealed wing of the Odyssey-9, the emergency lights flickering in erratic pulses. His hands trembled as he replayed the events in his mind. Europa. The ice. The way something moved beneath it. How the parasite clung to his suit, invisible, waiting.
THE GIFT
Emily’s phone buzzed—Jill. Her cousin’s name glowed on the screen like a ghost from the past. They hadn’t spoken in five years. The message was simple: I’ve been thinking about you. I miss you so much. I’m back in New York. Join me this weekend in Woodstock. It will change your life.
The Algorithm’s Final Trick
Rob used to be normal—at least, as normal as a guy who vaped bubblegum-flavored smoke and owned a "Live, Laugh, Lift" poster could be. His diet was 70% energy drinks, 20% Taco Bell, and 10% the free samples at Costco. Life was fine. Then the Algorithm happened.
It started with quirky conspiracy videos. Harmless stuff. "The moon is a hologram," "Tom Hanks was two raccoons in a trench coat," "Your microwave is a government informant." He chuckled, shared a few ironically, and moved on. But the more he saw the videos the more they burrowed into his brain. What if Reptilian shapeshifting aliens really did run Hollywood, he wondered.
THE KINDRED GLITCH
Sasquatch’S AWAKENING
Alone in the woods, Dave had eaten way too many psychedelic mushrooms. So when a massive figure—hairier than an overgrown lawn, with eyes that glowed like fireflies emerged from the shadows and stood over his campfire, he didn’t even panic.
CHAMP 2.0
Billy Walsh was a shitty, mad scientist whose anger caused a lot of issues in his life. With an emphasis on mad—he was also an arrogant, grudge holding asshole with mommy issues, whose rich parents footed the bill for his life. The people of Ticonderoga, NY, had shunned him after The Incident (which involved a genetically mutated squirrel, a taser, and an unfortunate explosion at the Stewart’s gas station). But tonight, revenge would be his.
MARIO’S SPECIAL PIZZA
Mario, the lab’s most promising chimpanzee, had always been curious. His handlers, marveled at his growing intellect as they pumped him full of experimental pharmaceuticals. The VR headset, designed to boost his cognitive abilities, was his gateway to a new world. The only thing Mario loved more than the pizza he was given for doing a good job in VR by his favorite scientist, Dr. Kim, was the world itself. He excelled at navigating through it unlike the other chimps—those vibrant landscapes, the endless possibilities were a respite from the real world and cruelness at the hands of Dr. Keller. But today, something was different.